Of Those Without Light
by Taisi
Summary: He whirled into my life with his loud voice and abrasive behavior, qualities that somehow blended seamlessly with his gentlemanly valor, and never left me behind.


No darkness since _he _found me. Found me, took my hand, bore me up into light with that _smile, _that kindness and radiance and _goodness _that tore down my defenses and left my heart bare and stricken.

He saw me, my strangeness and awfulness and my hidden face- and for whatever reason, didn't turn away. He whirled into my life with his loud voice and abrasive behavior, qualities that somehow blended seamlessly with his gentlemanly valor, and never left me behind.

I was in his thoughts, I could tell- when he looked at me, he was looking at _me. _He didn't try to draw me out of my shadows, he only helped me hide- with that crooked frown as he handed me my new glasses, placing them in my hand with a determined disapproval.

He'd seen my face, but he let me hide it. He didn't force me to show myself- it was enough that he saw. Enough that _he _knew. No one else needed to because no one else was important the way _he _was important. And maybe, even if he didn't like it, he understood. Maybe he did, and tried telling me in his own awkward way, with that rueful sigh and a hand mussing up my hair.

Maybe that was what those weighted exhales and gentle touches meant- because he understood me so much better than I ever wanted anyone to. Understood what I let him see, and smile at me like understanding was a gift he was blessed to have been given.

_Smile. _He would smile at me.

I would do anything, anything, _anything _for that smile. I would do anything to never see him hurt. Every nightmare, when he woke up screaming or gasping or crying and I would throw my blankets back and rush to his side, saying his name and shaking his arm until his eyes flew open and his thrashing stopped- when he would draw me close and dig his fingers into my shirt, burying his face in my shoulder or neck and just breathe-

My heart would break. And I would say soft things and ease him back down and pull the blankets up over him again, holding his hand until his fingers loosened around mine and his face relaxed in sleep.

I would reach out carefully, and brush his face with my fingers and wonder why God could let even the slightest pain _touch _him. How God could be considered fair in the slightest when that smile was allowed to _disappear _into pain for even a second.

I would hold his hand and touch his face and wonder. And the next morning when he sighed and rose with morning, rubbing hair out of his eyes and glancing at me- his smile lit up my world much better than the sun did.

Those strange conversations- those times he seemed to have forgotten conversations, gestures- thinking I was descending further into madness-

I wasn't. But that didn't _matter._

Because if it wasn't me, then it was _him._

He rushed to me, rushed to save me, those clear eyes bright and determined and searching out mine with a desperation that had despair clutching my heart before I remembered how to breathe.

Because it was his _mother- _it was his mother, and he killed her, kneeling blood that was still warm, over a body that wasn't quite dead-

And those eyes weren't clear anymore, weren't bright, and I couldn't stop crying.

Couldn't stop crying.

His smile was gone-

The sun was gone.

I came to and he was gone, too far gone for me to reach him anymore- I whispered his name, crawled to him through blood and clutched him clumsily with numb hands- he didn't answer me, couldn't hear me, because he was gone _again- _and I was screaming before I could help it, screaming without wanting to ever stop, screaming hoping that it suffocated me- screaming until my throat was raw and my voice was reduced to an echo.

It was dark again, and it hurt too much to breathe knowing I was _stealing_ each breath- breathing when he wasn't breathing- living when I should be dead, by his side, because I'm his servant, it's my role-

I killed him- again. He died, the way he should have before, and it was my fault _again. _But this time there was no miracle.

_I only want to be with you. I only want to see you smile._

I was alone again, for the first time since that day he held his hand out to me with that kindness and that warmth.

_Please don't hate me.  
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I should never have accepted that hand, that kindness, that warmth. I should have stayed away from him- because I was selfish, and I killed him.

_Please..._

It's my fault.

_...don't leave me._

And I'm alone again, in the dark. But it's better this way.

Light shouldn't touch someone like me.


End file.
